FullReads

“Cannot the priest tell?” asked the wise man.

“No one can tell,” answered the woman; “neither the priest nor their father nor myself, for they are just alike. And they are yet too young to remember their own names. Therefore your great wisdom is our only resource.”

“Bring them to me,” commanded Sophocles.

And when they were brought he looked at them attentively and said,

“This is Ophelia and this Amelia. Now tie a red ribbon about Ophelia’s wrist and put a blue ribbon on Amelia, and so long as they wear them you will not be troubled to tell them apart.”

Everyone marvelled greatly that Sophocles should know the children better than their own mother, but he said to himself,

“Since no no [both nos in original] one can prove that I am wrong I am sure to be right;” and thus he maintained his reputation for wisdom.

In a little side street near the center of Gotham lived an old woman named Deborah Smith. Her home was a wretched little hut, for she was poor, and supported herself and her husband by begging in the streets. Her husband was a lazy, short, fat old man, who lay upon a ragged blanket in the hut all day and refused to work.

“One beggar in the family is enough,” he used to grumble, when his wife upbraided him, “and I am really too tired to work. So let me alone, my Deborah, as I am about to take another nap.”

Nothing she could say would arouse him to action, and she finally allowed him to do as he pleased.

But one day she met Socrates walking in the street, and after watching him for a time made up her mind he was nothing more than a fool. Other people certainly thought him wise, but she was a shrewd old woman, and could see well enough that he merely looked wise. The next day she went to the south of the city to beg, and there she heard of Sophocles. When the people repeated his wise sayings she thought:

“Here is another fool, for anyone could tell as much as this man does.”

Still, she went to see Sophocles, and, dropping a penny upon his plate, she asked,

“Tell me, O wise man, how shall I drive my husband to work?”

“By starving him,” answered Sophocles; “if you refuse to feed him he must find a way to feed himself.”

“That is true,” she thought, as she went away; “but any fool could have told me that. This wise man is a fraud; even my husband is as wise as he.”

Then she stopped short and slapped her hand against her forehead.

“Why,” she cried, “I will make a Wise Man of Perry, my husband, and then he can earn money without working!”

So she went to her husband and said,

“Get up, Perry Smith, and wash yourself; for I am going to make a Wise Man of you.”

“I won’t,” he replied.

“You will,” she declared, “for it is the easiest way to earn money I have ever discovered.”

Then she took a stick and beat him so fiercely that at last he got up, and agreed to do as she said.

She washed his long beard until it was as white as snow, and she shaved his head to make him look bald and venerable. Then she brought him a flowing black robe with a girdle at the middle; and when he was dressed, he looked fully as wise as either Socrates or Sophocles.

“You must have a new name,” she said, “for no one will ever believe that Perry Smith is a Wise Man. So I shall hereafter call you Pericles, the Wisest Man of Gotham!”

She then led him into the streets, and to all they met she declared,

“This is Pericles, the wisest man in the world.”

“What does he know?” they asked.

“Everything, and much else,” she replied.

Then came a carter, and putting a piece of money in the hand of Pericles, he enquired,